


Saving Jacob Frye

by Shaytham



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Bad Decisions, Canon Trans Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Mental Instability, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor Jacob, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spoilers, Transphobia, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaytham/pseuds/Shaytham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob is a train wreck on fire, and Evie wants answers.  Unable to obtain them, other than a few suspicions concerning one Maxwell Roth, she turns to Ned for help.  Ned is pretty sure stealing the crown jewels might be safer than putting Jacob back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rock, Meet Bottom.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's creed or any recognizable characters. I am not making any sort of profit from this project.
> 
> THIS IS INCOMPLETE and will likely remain so. I just don't have the time with my life the way it is to keep working on this when I sort of lost interest and have moved on to other things.
> 
> The tags probably cover this, but I thought some clarification might help. There will be flashbacks containing dubious consent, and non-consensual male/male sex, mental abuse, and manipulation. This story deals a lot with the aftermath of sexual and emotional abuse, and the healing process that comes after. That being said, it's a minefield of triggers for things to do with rape and depression. However, it will have a happy ending and certainly isn't glorifying abusive relationships. It's primarily Jacob/Ned, with past Jacob/Maxwell Roth. I'll add more tags as I go.
> 
> I'll admit I've never written anything with a trans character before, but with a little help (and inspiration) from a good IRL friend of mine that's trans, I think I've got it right. Please comment and let me know what you think, this story is very much outside of my comfort zone and I want to know how I'm doing!

It was over. Finally over. Starrick was dead, and the Rooks had London in their in grasp. The Blighters were still around, of course, but their kingdom lay in shambles. For the first time in what felt like years, Jacob felt like he could breathe. It wasn't much, though - a gasp of air to a drowning man at best. Given time to sit and think on recent events in detail, he almost wished he had more Templars to stab. Banging heads together was easier than dealing with life at the moment. He'd settled for helping the Rooks become a more organized network, with eyes and ears on every street. Some of them were even working at Scotland yard, and one industrious fellow had found his way to a cushy job inside Buckingham Palace. Still, it wasn't enough to keep him distracted. Jacob needed to do something, _anything_ , to keep himself busier. If he stopped working, he started thinking. Thinking was dangerous. So, work it was.

His Rooks had caught word of a decent cargo shipment intended for one of Starrick's remaining business partners. The man wasn't a Templar as far as Jacob knew, but good intentions alone weren't enough to outfit London's underdog defenders. They needed income, and they might as well take what they could get from someone who made his fortune by licking Starrick's boots. It wasn't much, just a cart of pricy tea, but it would be easy for Ned to sell for a profit, and even easier to steal.

Jacob watched the cart in question as it made its way down a busy street in Southwark. There were two other coaches beside it being driven by a couple of the Blighters. The merchant had probably paid them for protection. Jacob decided he was tried of waiting and leaped from the roof he was on, loosing his hidden blade into the throat of the Blighter driving the cart full of tea. He took the reigns, and immediately rammed the carriage to his right at full force. It flipped over, right through the front of a small drug store. The poor sod driving it was hurled through the window which shattered on impact. Jacob pulled the reigns, slowing the frantic mare pulling his cart enough to safely drift around a street corner. The other escort wasn't as lucky and his horse plowed straight into a brick wall, throwing him out of his seat and underneath the wheels of an oncoming carriage. Jacob cringed at the screaming and the audible cracking of human bones.

It didn't take long to stow the cart in the yard of a workhouse under the Rooks' watch. Ned was there waiting for him, as Jacob had sent a messenger to let him know he might have something for him. Jacob hopped down from the cart and gave him a small smile, which turned into a scowl when none other than Evie appeared at Ned's side.

"Jacob." Evie said curtly. "Nice of you to come for tea."

"I'm glad you and Greenie are settling in, but some of us still have a city to protect." Jacob snapped, immediately regretting the venom in his tone. In reality, nothing terrified him more than losing Evie. Still, he'd rather dive right into the filthiest bit of the Thames he could find, arse naked, than admit how much she meant to him. No matter what, things would never be the same after the argument they'd had just before taking out Starrick together. Ned rolled his eyes, and started negotiations with the Rook in charge of the area.

"You don't even speak to me anymore! I'm still your sister!" Evie retorted angrily. "I'm worried sick about you!"

"I'm fine, Evie." Jacob replied wearily, wishing he could just throw a smoke bomb in her general direction and book it back toward the train as fast as he could.

"Hardly. You look like hell." Evie commented. "Have you even been sleeping? You look like you've lost weight, too. Granted your cooking could kill a horse, but you need to take care of yourself." All the while she spoke, she scrutinized him and Jacob unconsciously tried to move away from her.

"If you give me another lecture about father, this _will_ be last time we speak." Jacob said curtly, hating the words almost as much he hated even thinking about his father. He was always a bit of a disappointment, but if their father saw him now... Or worse, between Maxwell Roth's legs. Jacob visibly cringed and looked away from Evie. She could never know about that. _No one_ could ever know about that. He wished he could forget about it himself. Evie didn't reply, she just leveled him with a glare that could have killed him had he been paying proper attention to her. Instead, he nearly murdered Ned who tapped him on the shoulder lightly. In the space of maybe half a second, he had him pinned the ground with his hidden blade at his throat. Realizing what he did, Jacob babbled about a million apologies and awkwardly helped Ned to his feet.

"No bother, that's just what I get for surprising an assassin." Ned told him, but Jacob could see that he'd actually scared him and felt absolutely terrible about it.

"That was hardly a normal reaction." Evie commented, giving Jacob a knowing glance. "You aren't yourself lately."

"For the tenth time, _I'm fine_." Jacob snapped, and took off running before he had the chance to make things worse. He wasn't fine, though, and he knew it. In reality, he couldn't stand to be touched at all, not after... No, he wasn't going to think of that. He was a _man_ , God dammit! Jacob was halfway to Lambeth by the time he stopped to catch his breath on the roof of a factory. Miserably, he flopped down into a heap with his knees pulled to his chest. This must be what rock bottom fees like, he thought to himself. He was alone, mostly. He kept everyone he used to trust at an arm's length; he questioned every word and waited for the inevitable knife in his back - be it physical or metaphorical. He hadn't slept in days, and couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything that was decent. He was dead tired, but with sleep came the nightmares.

He felt like a child, the way he was running - in some cases literally - from the consequences of his naïve mistakes. Evie would be spitting mad, but an angry twin sister he could live with. She'd disown him if she knew the things he'd done. He couldn't look her in the eye as it was. How could he? She was everything an Assassin should be, and him... He'd had Maxwell Roth's cock in more places than he could count. He hid his face in his hands. He had to stop thinking about it. He had to dig himself out of this hole he'd fallen into, if it was even worth trying. He was relatively sure he'd driven away everyone that cared about him by that point. Evie, he assumed, only tried to keep tabs on him as a formality.

Jacob reached the train sometime near midnight. A few of the Rooks were lounging around playing cards in the dining car, but otherwise it was quiet. He threw his overcoat into the armchair that Evie normally used to occupy, and flopped down onto the couch face-first. He didn't even bother to change into something more comfortable. To be honest, he missed Evie's presence there. She and Henry had been working on building a proper base of operations for the Assassins' work in Westminster. He couldn't really fault her for wanting to stay somewhere more comfortable, even if he preferred the train.

"Evening, Jacob." Jacob swore under his breath in annoyance and rolled over. Ned picked up Jacob's coat and settled into Evie's chair.

"Have a job for me?" He asked, really only bothered because he wanted to be alone. Random nighttime visits from Ned weren't unusual. He always had some sort of heist planned, and would often drop in at one of the train's routine stops to give the Jacob the details.

"No, but I think I have my work cut out for me this time." Ned replied with an amused smirk. "Anyway, Evie sent me."

"And what does Miss Frye want from me, exactly?" Jacob groused, a fresh wave of irritation sweeping over him.

"You, well, the old you." Ned told him. "You aren't yourself Jacob; we can all see that. Clara even asked me last week if you were ill. You're going to work yourself to death, you idiot."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with me!" Jacob snapped, gripping the edge of the couch tightly enough to tear it. Ned heaved a sigh and pulled a slightly crumpled bit of paper out of his pocket. He offered it to Jacob, who snatched it far more savagely than was entirely necessary. If Ned was offended, he hid it well. It was the first letter that Roth had sent to him, Jacob knew before he'd even read it. He tore it to shreds and threw it on the floor like a petulant child.

"Maxwell Roth is – was – a dangerous man, and I don't just mean as a Templar and the leader of the Blighters. He has a certain... History. Did you meet Lewis? Lewis, with some of the blighters, ran a few heists for me a while back. That was before you and Evie came to London. Anyway, Lewis was a wreck. Roth had him positively whipped. He didn't dare disobey him; people he cared about would turn up dead when he failed to keep Roth entertained, or tried to cut ties with him. I saw a grown man cry because he blundered on a trivial job, and knew what the consequences would be." Ned explained. He knows, Jacob realized in a panic. Jacob thought of Lewis, and his cryptic warning of what happened to people that displeased his employer. The need to flee kicked in, but Ned must have seen it in his eyes. "Don't you dare run away, Jacob Frye." Ned snapped and gave him a fierce glare.

"What do you want from me? Evie already knows I worked with him, and how badly I cocked up." Jacob retorted, barely resiting the urge to pace the carriage like a caged lion at a menagerie. "It's why we had that falling out, which I assumed you knew about."

"Jacob, what did Roth do to you?" Ned inquired in a firm tone. "Tell me."

Jacob stared at Ned at a loss. What was he going tell him? The truth? That even though Roth was dead, Jacob purposely kept Evie at an arm's length to keep her safe out of paranoia? That he'd watched an innocent child burn to death because he hadn't been fast enough to save them all – Never mind the fiasco at the Alhambra? Or, how Roth's cock tasted as he shoved it down his – _No._ No, not that, _no._

"He betrayed me, obviously." Jacob replied after the uneasy silence that seemed to drag on for an eternity. Had Roth betrayed him, though? Really? No, Jacob told himself. He knew what he was doing, and he let it happen because he was both in love with, and utterly terrified of the man. It was as though he could still taste the blood on his lips from that last kiss. Jacob took a shaky breath and stood with his back to Ned.

"Jacob, I'm trying to _help_ you." Ned all but snarled. "Don't be stubborn."

"What are you going to do? Kill a ghost? What's done is done!" Jacob retorted, and snatched his coat from the rack where Ned had hung it.

"You are not seriously going to run away again, are you?" It was a statement, Jacob realized – not a question. "If what's done is done, then what are you running from?"

Jacob shook his head and jumped straight out of the train, stumbling along the edge of the tracks as he tried to gain his footing. He could hear Ned shout something along the lines of 'Damn it, Jacob!' as the train sped away.

* * *

Ned watched as the shadowed form of Jacob retreating along the tracks vanished into the night. Evie might have been worried about him, but for all her good intentions, the elder Frye twin hadn't the slightest idea what had _really_ happened between her brother and Maxwell Roth. Neither did Ned, for that matter. Had Jacob's involvement merely been a business acquaintance that had gone south? ...Or had Jacob been led astray by Roth's other charms like that poor bastard, Lewis? He hated to think about it, but Ned suspected the latter. The way he panicked when Ned had tried to get his attention by tapping his shoulder had been answer enough. He didn't want to be touched.

"Damn it." Ned muttered for what had to be the hundredth time that day. He knew he was in for a mess when Evie, capable as she was, came to him for help instead of Mr. Green or someone more... reputable. Ned hopped off the train the very instant it slowed to a halt at the Victoria station in Westminster, nearly an hour after Jacob's departure. Evie was there with a few of the Rooks waiting at the platform. She looked as tired and careworn as her brother, even though she hid it a bit better.

"He bolted again." Ned told her flatly as she waved the Rooks away. "I think I know what the problem is, and if I'm right he's more of a mess than you know."

"What is it, Ned? Tell me!" Evie demanded as they made their way through the station that was mostly empty, aside from a few Rooks patrolling the place and a commuter or two. Ned liked it that way, even if it was a bit eerie seeing the normally bustling station almost deserted.

"No, not yet. I don't know for sure, and the implication would be... Leave him to me for now." Ned told her. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do what I can to help. I owe that arsehole one, anyhow. I never did pay him back properly for saving my hide from the bobbies. I suppose its time I settled my debts."

"Jacob would never hold to you any such debts." Evie replied, sounding miserable.

"No, he wouldn't." Ned agreed. "Just worry about your work keeping the Blighters in check; I'll keep you updated."

Evie watched Agnes chatting with one of the station's conductors for a moment before speaking. "Fine, but I don't like this. He's _my_ brother, I should be-"

Ned cut her off mid-sentence. "Not to be rude, and please do not take offense, but I doubt there's anything you can do at the moment. Well, other than make things worse because you're just going to start yelling at each other again."

"I would not!" Evie retorted in a scandalized tone.

"Yes, you _would_ , because that's the reaction he wants. It's easier for him to avoid you that way. I need to go. Try to stay out of trouble, Evie." Ned said dismissively. Evie scoffed and turned away, everything about her stiff posture, to her quick steps suggested far more pent up frustration than Ned had any desire to deal with. He made a mental note to take a page out of Jacob's book and avoid her like the plague. Evie meant well, and was a genuinely kind person, but at the moment she and Jacob got along about as well as cats and dogs. ...Which meant hell for anyone that needed to work with either of them.

"If I were an assassin, who happens to be a complete train wreck, where would I be?" Ned muttered to himself and got back onto the train. He laid down on the couch Jacob had vacated and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Never mind finding Jacob, how was he going to help if he couldn't even get him to talk?


	2. Traps are excellent plot devices.

Jacob restlessly paced the length of the spare bedroom he was using at one of the Rooks' strongholds in Lambeth. What would he do now? At least dealing with Ned hadn't been particularly personal. Now he'd never be able to look him in the eye again. He could have been out hijacking a train full of valuable cargo, but the thought of having to deliver it to Ned later kept him right where he was. And Evie had asked him for help? She really had some nerve, but he knew that. Angrily he kicked an empty wastebasket across the room. He needed to find a job for the day. Maybe he'd drop by and see if Freddy had any bounties out. At least he probably hadn't been caught up in the little 'let's save Jacob from himself' conspiracy going around. Just as he resigned himself to head to Scotland Yard, there was a knock on his door. His first instinct was to hop out of the window because it was probably bloody Evie, but he peeked through the crack near the door frame for the benefit of the doubt. It was just one of the Rooks standing in the hall. With a sigh, Jacob opened the door.

"Boss, we just got word that there's a really important Templar in town. He's set himself up at the asylum." The Rook, a lanky twenty something year old man, told Jacob excitedly.

"Thank God." Jacob said with relief. Killing Templars was the perfect distraction, at least for a bit.

"Miss Nightingale can give you the details. She's the one who told us, Sir. We came to you straight away." The Rook told Jacob as he bounded down the hall. Jacob paid no heed to his surroundings as he left the Rooks base, and 'borrowed' an unoccupied growler parked nearby. He may or not have run a few poor sods off the road in his haste to get to the asylum. Not wanting to alert his prey, he hopped out of the still moving carriage a couple streets over and walked the rest of the way.

He hated the asylum - everything about it, from the unmentionable things they did to patients there, to the memory of impersonating a cadaver to kill Elliotson. Thinking of the smell of death in that place still made his skin crawl. Miss Nightingale was waiting for Jacob in the courtyard when he approached. A quick look around the area didn't reveal anything out of place. He doubted the nurses who were out for some sun on their breaks were Templar agents. Most of the Templars Jacob had encountered would rather strut about like overly zealous peacocks than do something sensible, like wear disguises.

"Ah, thank goodness you came." Florence said with a smile and a slight nod of her head. "There is a new doctor here that I believe may be working for your enemies."

"What can you tell me about him? Does he have guards?" Jacob inquired, hoping she could give him something useful so he could get to it.

"He's was an apprentice of Elliotson's." Florence explained hesitantly. "He seemed like a decent man at first, but I've been noticing problems with the ledgers, and medicines have gone missing. There aren't any guards I know of, other than our normal security. His office is in the cellar. He should be there now sorting out files."

The cellar, by the morgue. Wonderful, thought Jacob. Still, it was better than dealing

with Evie and her new henchman, Wynert. He wasn't sure if he'd ever really be ready to confront his emotional turmoil, but right now he definitely wanted no part of it. What he needed was normalcy - stabbing Templars, raiding Blighter strongholds, that sort of thing. He needed time, not to be fawned over. With a sigh, Jacob waltzed through he front door and took stock of his surroundings. Things were quiet, thankfully, and the asylum's security mostly didn't notice him. They were too busy talking amongst themselves, and he slipped by them with practiced ease.

Finding the doctor's office was simple enough. The lower floors were mostly deserted, and Jacob needed only to avoid being spotted by a few maintenance workers hanging around the morgue. The place still unsettled him a bit, but he blamed the atmosphere of the whole asylum for that. How these people could work in such a hellish business was beyond him. Jacob crouched outside the closed office door and listened. He could only just make out the faint sound of shuffling papers within. Cautiously he tested the doorknob. It was locked. He picked it deftly and slipped inside without a sound, only to find an empty office. Just as he was about to take a closer look, the door slammed behind him and the

sound of the lock clicking back into place echoed in the silence.

"Now then, there's only one way out of here and I'm standing in front of it. No more running, Jacob. Start talking." Jacob wasn't sure if he should be relieved to hear Ned's voice instead of some Templar's, or infuriated for being for cornered.

"Bloody hell, Wynert!" Jacob swore and flopped gracelessly onto the worn leather chair behind the desk. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious the office hadn't actually been used in years. Everything was covered in dust, and boxes stuffed full of medical files were stacked in heaps around the room. It was almost a window into the past, and it was downright creepy. "So Miss Nightingale is in on this nonsense now, too?" Jacob added in sheepish tone when Ned ignored his reaction entriely.

"It wasn't hard to convince her to help. No one uses this office, and you'll notice this floor was deserted because it's off limits to the staff except for special circumstances. So, no one will overhear anything we discuss here. Now tell me, what did Roth do to you?" Ned said in an even, firm tone.

Jacob glanced to the door that Ned was leaning against. It really was the only way out; there weren't any windows underground, obviously. There was a ventilation shaft in the ceiling, but it was much to narrow for him to crawl into. Evie could probably fit, but his shoulders were much too broad. Then it hit him, would he really rather crawl through a vent in an insane asylum than than open up about what happened? Just how pathetic was he?

"He used me, in more ways than one." Jacob said finally, gripping the arms of the chair hard and not meeting Ned's eyes. "And I just kept going back for more. I'll tell you whatever you want, but for fuck's sake can we go somewhere else? I hate this damned place."

* * *

Ned settled on the twins' train; it was a place Jacob (most likely) felt relatively safe. He'd managed to evict Evie for the time being, after Jacob's insistence and flat-out refusal to be in the same room as her. She was, as expected, furious. With Evie no longer in the vicinity, the train was empty aside from Agnes who was taking a nap in the first carriage – well out of earshot. The Rooks that normally hung around were out terrorizing what remained of the Blighters. Jacob fell into his usual spot on the couch. Ned took Evie's favorite chair, balancing a cup of tea on the arm rest. He was fond of this train, but it could really do with a bit of proper cleaning every now and then. The Fryes were Assassins after all, not uncultured thugs.

"So, I've been meaning to ask this for a while, but I figured it would piss you off. Seeing as you're already probably at your wits end with me..." Jacob said, picking at the hem of sleeve. "Are you a man, or a woman? I can't tell, and I ask myself every time I see you."

Ned wasn't entirely sure how he managed not to grab his pistol and just shoot Jacob in that disgustingly handsome face of his. "I'm a man, Frye." He snapped, unable to keep all of the vitriol out of his voice. The silence that followed was nearly suffocating. Still, he knew Jacob hadn't meant to actually offend him. Well, probably a _little_ bit. Things like this, Ned had learned to either ignore or take in stride. He (mostly) no longer noticed the slight confusion in the expressions of new acquaintances as they silently tried to assess his gender, or the odd looks folks would shoot his way when he was out in public. At one time, it hurt. Not so much anymore, since he he knew damn well that he could rob nearly anyone of everything they owned, with nothing but an easy smile and a bit of charisma. "This isn't about me, Jacob."

Jacob sighed heavily and tossed his cap in the general direction of the rack nearby. It fell short and landed on floor about three feet away. Ned ignored it, and Jacob's evasiveness. He wasn't running; that was a start. What he needed was for Jacob to trust him. Then again, maybe that wasn't best thing either. Ned had to wonder if Evie had picked the right person for the job. Everything Ned did was an act. He wasn't entirely sure who he really was anymore. He was who he wantedthe world to know him as, but as far as himself... Ned shook his head and took a sip of his tea.

"I miss him, to be completely honest." Jacob said, the honesty of the statement taking Ned by surprise. "All my life I've only ever heard people tell me that I'm wrong, or not good enough. Roth, he understood me. He... didn't try to make me into someone that I'm not."

Ah, that Ned could relate to. Completely.

"I felt like I was actually accomplishing something. We tore the Blighters to shreds, and it seemed like I was finally doing something that actually got to that prick, Starrick. I wasn't chasing legends like Evie with her stupid magic shawl. ...Until Roth thought it was acceptable to blow up a workhouse full of children. I... Couldn't save them all." Jacob explained, his voice cracking a bit. He was holding back tears, Ned realized. Jacob loved children, too, he knew. Little Clara certainly adored him, and Jacob had almost single-handedly put a massive dent in London's child labor problem. "And then, at the Alhambra..."

"That, I know about." Ned said with a cringe. All of London knew of how Roth deliberately torched the place, with a sold out show. They were still finding bones as they cleared the rubble.

"When I killed him, I asked him why he did it. And that arse, he..." Jacob choked on the words and fell silent. "I wonder if it _all_ was just because he could. Not just havoc we caused but... I thought I _meant_ something to him."

And there it was, the thing Ned really hoped hadn't happened. Roth was lucky he was dead, or Ned would be kicking down his door and God help anyone who got in his way. The anger, he understood. The strange possessiveness that welled up inside him, however, was completely unexpected. How _dare_ he hurt Jacob that way. Jacob wasn't his. Jacob deserved better. Ned wondered if he should be drinking something stronger than tea.

Jacob took a shuttering breath and hid his face in his hands. "Roth took advantage of me, and I let it happen. I _liked_ it, and I hate myself for it. I tried to cut ties with him. His men almost took Evie out; it was dumb luck that I killed them before they got to her. She's tough, but... I knew what would happen if I didn't give him what he wanted. So I didn't fight, because I fucking loved him as much as I hated him, and was I terrified of what he would do I if I rebelled."

"You know, Wynert, it's funny. I'm a gang leader and an assassin, but all I could think of when he decided to have his way with me was, 'this is illegal'." Jacob said, his voice caught somewhere between ironic laughter and a sob.

"So, you think homosexuals are worse than killers?" Ned asked dryly.

"What? No. I..." Jacob flailed for the words, and gave in with a dramatic little fit of swearing. "I've never really liked women. I mean, the sex is nice, but I've never wanted a committed relationship with one. Most of them are insufferable and being with them is bloody stifling. I never thought of being with men, until I met Roth. It's like my father is still haunting me, and I shouldn't care but all I can think of is that I'm some sort of..." His voice trailed off and he buried his face in the couch cushion.

"Abomination." Ned said in a whisper mostly to himself. That was what that woman had called him during his first days of wearing a man's clothes. He'd cried like the little girl his parents wanted him to be that night. Then he broke into her house and stole her shit. Everything that wasn't nailed down. Her expansive jewelry collection paid for almost half of the small fortune he'd amassed in order to leave America. He hadn't cried since. Maybe Evie _had_ picked the right person to get through to Jacob. ...Which meant the little hell-cat knew exactly what she was dealing with, but had no idea how to actually approach the problem. Try as he might, Ned really couldn't fault her for that. At least she was trying, and not condemning him.

They sat in silence for a while. Jacob stared at the ceiling apparently lost in his thoughts. Ned pondered exactly what to say or do to somehow make things easier for Jacob. He was at a loss. How had he gotten over his own insecurities? The short answer was through distracting himself with work. The truth, however, was a little more complicated. He still hated to look in the mirror. His smile was still as fake as it always was. The confidence he was known for, was really paper thin and only a damn good act. Maybe Jacob wasn't the only one who needed a little help slaying his demons.

"Frye?"

"Hm?"

"...Fuck this. Let's go rob a train."


End file.
